Fugue
by Turned
Summary: A woman lost finds her way back. O/S, canon characters, AU.


Fugue

Most days I would sit, just as I was at that moment, and watch from the window. There were people, and sky, and on the horizon was water. I would leave the chair for meals, or to use the bathroom. Sometimes I would walk through the library to take a book from the shelf, which I'd bring back and lay on the small table beside my bed. When the book would catch my eye days later, untouched, I would pick it back up and return it to the library shelf, and sometimes I'd replace it with another. And when I was told it was time for bed, I would lay down and watch some more, though there was less to see in the dark.

Last night, though, had been different.

The sound I made, to clear my throat, was answered with that of something falling to the floor, and I turned my gaze from the window to the man seated in the corner of my room. He visited every other day, and though one of the few memories I did have were those of speaking to him, I had apparently been silent enough lately to startle him.

"Sorry," he apologized, reaching to retrieve the clipboard that had fallen to the floor at his feet. There were times, early on, I could recall, when his visits would include physical examinations. I would follow his finger, or his pen, sometimes a penlight, back and forth across my line of sight. I would stand and sit for him, grab his fingers or try to push against his hands. I could remember answering his simple questions, but the harder ones, the ones that made no sense to me, were as if he were speaking in another language, and eventually he had stopped asking them.

"No problem," I replied softly. "I found something out last night," I went on, self-consciously covering the jagged scar that marred most of my lower abdomen. I knew he couldn't see it, but it was an action I didn't seem to be able to control.

"Oh?"

I had to give the poor man, my long-suffering doctor, credit. He was unfailingly kind and polite. "I think my name is Bella," I whispered. There was no response, only the sound of his pen scratching on paper. "Dr. Alden?" I ventured, looking back to him again. "Is my name Bella?"

"Is this something you remembered?" he asked, distracted and seemingly ignoring my question.

Suddenly I was embarrassed, and my cheeks felt warm. "No," I admitted. "I...heard it." I didn't want to explain any further, so I turned back to the window, and after a few more of his questions went unanswered, Dr. Alden sighed in defeat.

It was a sound I hadn't heard in a long time, back when he would occasionally show me pictures of people. He would ask if I knew who the people were, and I would shake my head, having no idea.

Dr. Alden coughed once and shifted in his chair. "Your name is Isabella, but perhaps you went by Bella," he suggested.

I was secretly pleased but hid my smile. "I've never heard anyone call me by that name," I observed. The nurses and orderlies referred to me as 'Miss,' and I couldn't remember anyone else, aside from him, speaking to me directly. I wondered if Dr. Alden would push any further, but he didn't.

"Well, then," he started, as he always did before leaving, "I'll see you again in a couple of days. Your nurses know how to reach me."

I mouthed his words along with him to myself and watched his reflection in the glass as he left. The sky was getting darker, as was my room, and I shifted to my bed. Though I hadn't eaten dinner, sometimes, when the nurses would check in to remind me, they would leave me be. I was hoping this evening, I could slip quietly to bedtime. I was hoping this evening would be like the previous one.

At night, I dreamt. Or at least, I assumed I did. I had no memories of my dreams, only the euphoria I felt when I woke up, at regular intervals, every night. I would sit straight up, panting, every part of my body exquisitely on fire. It often was obvious that I had just climaxed, and it was wonderful. It was wonderful to feel something, and I would paw at my bedclothes, eager to share my joy with someone, though I was always alone. I didn't care, I was simply grateful. I slept happily, I craved it, the only joy found in the drudgery of the days.

But the dreams of my night before, for the first time in countless days, perhaps months, I remembered. I remembered being face down in my bed and kicking the sheet from me, frustrated because I was hot. I remembered leaning up to pull off my t-shirt, wondering if it were okay to sleep in just my underwear. I had flipped my pillow over countless times and twisted my long hair off to the side, cursing its length. I considered briefly, as I sometimes had in the past, seeking out the night nurse and asking for something to help me sleep. And then I felt it.

The coolest and most delicate of touches, on the back of my calf, just above my ankle. I sighed, immediately calmed, and the sensation was duplicated on my other leg. In tandem, it moved upward, slowly, the cold of the touch mixing with the heat it was creating inside me, and I barely noticed when my underwear was gently pulled from me. My legs parted, and the sensation made its way from the insides of my thighs to across my backside.

I moaned in anticipation as the cold grip pulled at my hips, causing me to shift slightly upward onto my knees, arching my back. And while the gentle movements continued along the sides of my thighs and torso, I suddenly felt something icy and wet between my legs, licking and probing at me, swirling across my exposed flesh before darting inside. I was lapped and sucked, and I wanted it, crying out when it stopped. I felt myself shifted again to lie flat on the bed, and I burrowed my face into the pillow in frustration.

"Shhh." The voice was inside my ear, it seemed, and I shivered as a cool weight pressed onto me, between my open legs and into me, and I gasped. "Bella," it whispered, "Bella…" Each thrust brought the voice more urgently, repeating the word as the hardness moved in and out of me. "Bella," it hissed, the coldness finding its way around my body to my breasts and stomach.

"Yes!" I cried, my mouth immediately covered.

"Fuck!" I heard as I came, followed by a last few thrusts, and I expected to bolt upright in bed, as I always did, but instead I was cradled. "Sleep, love," the voice panted. "Sleep."

So I laid in my bed again following Dr. Alden's visit, hopeful and eager, and I watched the night continue to darken. I listened to the noises in the hallway, and the rhythm of the building. I smoothed the sheets under my hands and waited.

A sharp knock on the door startled me, and I realized I had fallen asleep. "Yes?" I asked, and the door opened to reveal a familiar orderly. "Emmett?" He was lit from behind, but his large frame was unmistakable.

He shifted slightly around the partially open door and smiled, surprised. "You okay?"

I glanced around the room and nodded. "I think so." Emmett's grin was wide, and I smiled back at him. "What?" I asked, somewhat self-consciously.

"You're talking," he said gently. "And smiling."

My face felt warm again. "My name is Bella," I blurted.

A strange look flashed across his pale, handsome face, and he abruptly laughed. "You don't say!" I nodded shyly as my hands moved across my stomach. "It's good to have a name for you after all these months," he said, eyeing my movements.

"How many, exactly?" I asked.

Emmett's face grew serious. "I've been working here six," he replied.

"Oh." I wondered if we had both been there the same length of time. Perhaps it had been even longer for me. "Dr. Alden said my full name is Isabella, but maybe I went by Bella." I looked up hopefully at Emmett. "Maybe that's what my friends called me," I speculated.

Emmett nodded thoughtfully and smiled again. "I'm sure they did." He glanced to the window and then back to me. "I'll let you get some sleep. Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight," I replied, though he'd already closed the door.

I was dismayed to wake up the next morning with no recollection of the previous night's dreams, or of even falling asleep after speaking with Emmett. After dressing, I made my bed and noticed the book on my table, though I couldn't remember retrieving it from the library. I thumbed through the pages before smelling them, unable to place what was familiar about it.

The day passed like the others, the only difference in that I felt restless. I watched from the window and felt myself smile at the couple seated on the bench across the grounds in the distance. Sometimes just the two of them were there, sometimes there were others with them, and I had long ago assumed they were a family, visiting someone. I wondered to whom they were so dedicated, to spend so many afternoons.

A small girl ran to them, followed by a man I had seen before with them. It was hard to make out features, but I recognized the color of his hair, and that he'd been there before, both with the couple and alone. The child jumped into the lap of the seated woman before pointing toward my building and waving. A small part of me wanted to return the happy child's greeting, though I knew she couldn't see me where I sat. We were simply too far apart. There had been a baby with them once, I recalled, so perhaps the girl was an older sister. I pulled my chair closer to the window and leaned against the sill, content to watch the family the rest of the afternoon. The couple eventually left, taking the girl with them, but the man remained, facing my building, seemingly stuck as I was, staring.

I reluctantly broke away from the view for dinner and then became distracted afterward with preparing for bed. I couldn't remember feeling so comfortable or relaxed as I gathered the covers around me, when I suddenly realized I was naked.

"Come back to me," the voice begged softly, and I sighed, stretching out my arms in welcome. Cool lips nipped at my neck, tugging gently, swiftly moving to cover my mouth. "Bella…"

The sweetest taste hit my tongue and I gasped, wrapping myself around the body suddenly on top of mine. "Please," I begged.

"I miss you," the voice went on. "I can't…" Cool fingers slipped between us, and he cursed. "Fuck, I want..." he growled. "Slow, love….slow." Fingers were replaced as his length slid inside me, and I fought back my tears.

"I miss you, too," I said shakily, not knowing what compelled me to say it. I was trying not to sob, not to ruin my perfect dream, and I was failing.

"Bella," he said, stopping all motion. It was too dark to see, so he held my face still, running his lips over my cheeks to catch the tears. "It's okay."

I nodded dumbly and clung to him. "At night, it's the only time I'm-"

"I know," he said calmly, moving from between my legs to hold me to his side.

"I don't know where I am-"

"I know, shhhh..."

"I'm so scared-"

"Bella," he said forcefully. "You'll come back, I promise."

I wiped at the tears and nodded into his chest. "Why did I leave?" I finally asked.

"I don't know, love," he said sadly, "but I'll stay until you come back." I nodded again, too scared to not believe his words.

"You're so cold," I murmured, my eyes feeling tired and heavy, and he chuckled.

"Sleep," he said simply, and I did.

The following morning, I could only remember being upset in my dreams, instead of happy, and it was bothersome. The restlessness returned, and by the afternoon, I was more than ready for Dr. Alden's visit.

"Bella," he said pleasantly, taking his usual seat in the corner.

"Dr. Alden," I replied, and he smiled.

"How are you today?"

I thought for a moment, which seemed to delight him, and frowned. "I'm confused."

Dr. Alden nodded enthusiastically and pulled a pen from his jacket pocket. "What's confusing you?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I don't know…" I didn't know what to ask. I didn't know where to start. "I just don't know."

"I see," he said kindly. "Perhaps-"

Voices from the hallway interrupted him, and we both looked to the door. Once it was clear that some type of argument was quickly escalating, Dr. Alden grimaced and rose from his seat. "Give me moment, Bella," he said apologetically, and I waved him off, watching him go. He closed the door behind him, and I quietly crept to it and pressed my ear to the wood. There were the sounds of scuffling and grunting, and I felt my eyebrows raise up. The muffled noises seemed to move away, further down the hall, and I sighed, wondering if Dr. Alden would be able to return any time soon.

My eyes caught sight of his clipboard, and I frowned. I picked it up and hesitated, wondering if I should leave it or attempt to return it, though I wasn't interested in seeing whatever had happened in the hallway. What did interest me, was my name on the tab of the folder under Dr. Alden's notepad, attached to his clipboard.

My hands shook as I pulled at the folder, carefully opening it and placing it on my bed. Most of the handwriting on some of the forms was indecipherable, but there were also computer print-outs . I chose one labeled 'intake,' and began to read, my heart dropping with each line.

I had no last name, no known address. 'None' was my next of kin, and I had no occupation. Strangely enough, my insurance carrier was listed as 'private,' and someone named 'J. Jenks' held the power-of-attorney. The name meant nothing to me, so I continued reading on the next page.

"Dissociative amnesia," I said aloud. It was my admitting diagnosis, along with the handwritten word, 'fugue.' My health history was scribbled in, and my eyes immediately began to tear. According to the information crammed into the small box, I'd had a c-section prior to my admission, and a subsequent hysterectomy for uterine rupture. What I couldn't tell, was what had happened to my baby. It felt like someone else's life for as much as I understood any of it.

I sloppily stuffed the papers back into the folder and shoved the clipboard across my bed. I thought of the little girl I'd seen countless times outside my window, surrounded by a family that obviously adored her. Was there a child out there somewhere, wondering where I was? Had I once been someone else's daughter? I slumped into my chair by the window and cried, for what I wasn't sure, but I couldn't seem to stop.

"Bella?" asked a voice from behind me. Before I could answer, two hands rested delicately on my shoulders, and I leaned back to let whomever it was embrace me. "It's okay, sweetheart."

"Your voice is so pretty," I sniffed, wiping my face with my sleeve.

"So is yours."

I laughed at the idea of my raspy, seldom-used voice considered pretty. Turning in my chair, I looked up into the eyes of the beautiful woman standing behind me. "Are you here to visit me?" I asked stupidly, immediately embarrassed. No one but Dr. Alden or Emmett had ever set foot in my room, but for some reason I desperately wanted to be the reason the woman was there. I looked at her more closely and realized she was part of the couple I often saw, seated on the bench with her family. "You're the woman from outside," I exclaimed.

She nodded and crouched beside me, smiling. "I'm Esme," she said softly.

"You come here all the time," I clarified.

Esme nodded and blinked rapidly, though her eyes were dry. "To see you."

I frowned and shook my head. "I see you with your family," I insisted. The more I looked at her, the more familiar she seemed, though it must have been from all the times I'd watched. Esme smoothed back my hair, her face full of compassion. "You come to see me?" I asked.

"We all do, Bella."

My eyes shot to the window, to the view of the man with the odd-colored hair, sitting alone this time, staring. "He comes with a little girl…" I said, my voice trailing off.

"Bella," Esme started, but I ignored her.

I stood and moved to the touch the glass of the window, and the man rose suddenly to his feet. "He comes here…" I said shakily, recognizing the way the he walked, slowly making his way closer toward me. "His skin's like yours," I whispered hoarsely, glancing back at Esme. "Like Emmett's."

I could see the man's face now, worried, and my heart went out to him as I smiled and shook my head at his expression. His face was the same as the one of the baby I'd once held, before. "Esme," I gasped. "He's here for me…" I couldn't help but smack my hand against the pane to get his attention, to let him know I knew, that I remembered. Not that he'd looked anywhere else than straight at me, and I couldn't help the sob that erupted when he smiled.

"Edward."


End file.
